… is Joshua, after having two Dashes wrecked by rain and one hijacked by ESPN, finally got to run the bases. Emily and I walked around the warning track with him, marveling at how big Shea is from a player's-eye view. Joshua chugged around the bases (My! Kid! Is! Running! The! Bases! At! Shea!) and low-fived Mr. Met at second base. It would have been pretty amazing if I hadn't been suicidal.
Which brings us to the bad news, which includes everything else. Luis Ayala coming up empty, which you knew had to be coming after a good streak, so we'll let him pass. Pedro Feliciano being allowed near a pitcher's mound when he's demonstrated repeatedly that there should be a restraining order against such behavior. The sublime uselessness of Luis Castillo. The baffling absence of Damion Easley in a do-or-die situation where someone able to hit the ball more than 100 feet was required. Learning that Easley was missing because he heard a pop in his quad yesterday and went for an MRI. The Phillies catching up to the Brewers and then passing them. Whatever the Phillies will do tonight. The whole heavy-bellied, head-dragging horror of the slow-motion disaster [1].
We're playing baseball tomorrow night. Hooray.